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Putting the dead in deadline
To Bee or not to Bee? When the widely disliked Honeywell Stingers football coach is found murdered, 17-year-old Millie is determined to investigate. She is chasing a lead for the school newspaper – and looking to clear her father, the assistant coach, and prime suspect.
Millie's partner is gorgeous, smart—and keeping secrets
Millie joins forces with her mysterious classmate Chase who seems to want to help her even while covering up secrets of his own.
She’s starting to get a reputation…without any of the benefits.
Drama—and bodies—pile up around Millie and she chases clues, snuggles Baxter the so-ugly-he’s-adorable bassett hound, and storms out of the world’s most awkward school dance/memorial mash-up. At least she gets to eat a lot of pie.
Best-selling author Beth Fantaskey’s funny, fast-paced blend of Clueless and Nancy Drew is a suspenseful page-turner that is the best time a reader can have with buried weapons, chicken clocks, and a boy who only watches gloomy movies…but somehow makes Millie smile. Bee-lieve it.
“Everyone’s somewhere in cyberspace!” “Well, there are stories about him playing football here,” I conceded, glancing over my shoulder to see that Chase had his nose buried in his textbook. Studious suck-up! Teacher’s pet! I turned back to Laura. “But it’s like he didn’t exist before he came to Honeywell. All the other Chase Albrights are, like, accountants, doctors—and a preschool soccer prodigy in England.” Laura smiled archly. “Why’d you Google him, anyway?” I knew what she was
looks? Did she look like you? Have the same red hair?” “Yes. Her hair was exactly like mine.” I smiled, too, remembering me and my mother standing in front of a mirror together on a humid day, our crazy red curls like frizzy halos around our heads. “We both used to complain about it.” “I bet you like it now,” Chase guessed softly and more seriously. “I bet you feel lucky to share that with her.” He met my eyes briefly, one more time. “Especially since it really is pretty, Millie.” I didn’t
cobra in a tight sweater, and apparently Ryan and Laura were caught off-guard, too. We all spun around in unison, clunking into each other like the Three Stooges. Viv wasn’t laughing at our routine, though—and I wasn’t amused, either. Just confused. “What exclusive interview?” Viv smiled smugly. “The one I got by just visiting his office, after school, and persuading him to give an earnest, ambitious student journalist information that I don’t think any other reporter has yet.” I knew what Viv
wouldn’t lie for him!” All of a sudden, the hallway seemed to constrict. Or maybe that was my chest. I definitely had trouble breathing, and barely got out, “Umm . . . girlfriend?” “Jeez Louise!” Viv seemed to realize—much to her obvious delight—that I really had no idea what she was talking about. Her lips curled into a vile smile as she said, finally really sticking it to me, the way she’d wanted to do for years, “Please don’t tell me that you had no idea your father is seeing some dweeby
about the care and feeding of pythons because you might’ve borrowed one from your junior high science lab, just to give it a weekend of freedom from a cage. A librarian could’ve answered questions that you had about a certain guy whom you used consider an insufferable snob but who was turning out to be confusing and maybe likable. Perhaps too likable for a girl with a pug-dog nose and no table manners. A librarian opened up new doors for you, intellectually, too, without shoving you through them.